


The Shadow Self

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Dark Merlin (Merlin), Episode: s03e02 The Tears of Uther Pendragon (Part II), Introspection, M/M, POV Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-08-09 20:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: In the aftermath of Essetir's sorcery-aided invasion and the big battle for Camelot, Morgana is hailed as a heroine. But Merlin knows the truth about her evil intentions and alliances. She is dangerous, and his own magic has an unpredictable dark side.





	The Shadow Self

**Author's Note:**

> The fic warns for a major character death that is canonical, but comes earlier in this fic than in the show. I consider it a not unlikely AU turn of events, but if so— what would the last 3 seasons of Merlin have been about?
> 
> Thank you to my always helpful beta, Gwyllion.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and events of the BBC's Merlin belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit.

  


  
In the end, it was easy, and quickly done. He reacted on impulse rather than premeditation, but once there was no way back, Merlin didn't regret it.

Sooner or later, it would have come down to one or the other of them. He'd only precipitated what was bound to happen anyway.

* * * * *

Heart heavy, Merlin left the Great Hall and looked out across the courtyard. There was battle debris, soot, and destruction everywhere. An acrid smell hung heavy in the air. The clean-up had just begun. Servants and guards were clearing paths through the rubble and pouring water on the cobblestones to wash away the blood.

Merlin knew that the lower town and the outlying villages to the east had been all but destroyed by Cenred's army. How long would it take to set things right? How many innocent men, women and children had just lost their lives or their livelihoods?

And perhaps, most importantly, how long before it would happen again? Morgana was still inside the hall, being hailed by everyone as their saviour, a revered heroine who was secretly plotting new calamities. 

Merlin closed his eyes and revisited his confrontation with her in the crypt during the big battle. 

_"Morgana, please. I beg you. Women and children are dying. The city will fall."_

_"Good."_

_"No, you don't mean that."_

But she_ had _meant it. He saw that now. She clearly would stop at nothing to get her elaborate and cruel revenge. Destruction, treachery, war, and even a massacre of Camelot's people hadn't fazed her. The Morgana he remembered wasn't the Morgana who had returned to Camelot. This woman was evil, brimming with hatred and spite. 

What had Morgause done to her in the year she'd been away? How could a person change this much?

Merlin sighed and hurried down the steps. He needed to return home to collect Gaius's baskets of potions and salves, bandages and medical remedies. Many people had been injured in the fight. The court physician would be labouring into the night to relieve the suffering.

Gaius's quarters harboured a strange lull and order when compared to the chaos and noise outside. Merlin felt an overwhelming weariness after the last few days. He'd come close to dying from the serket's poison, and he'd hardly had a second's rest since. He'd been constantly in motion, constantly on high alert. 

He paused for a moment, supporting himself on the old wooden table. His head drooped.

The dangers that this new and callous Morgana represented were only now truly sinking in.

She and Morgause had come very close to discovering the truth about his magic. Their many schemes during the invasion, tormenting Uther with madness and plotting with Cenred, had not left them any time to think about Merlin's situation. But now things had changed. Surely they would soon ponder how Merlin had escaped the enchanted chains, and who had destroyed the magical Rowan staff, when only Merlin had been near it. It was only a matter of time before they realized the truth. Whether they then came to kill him, or only found a way to reveal his magic to the king, the outcome would be the same. Merlin would have to leave Camelot, and Arthur would be on his own.

Arthur.

With all his heart, Merlin believed in their shared destiny. Arthur would be a glorious king. He'd usher in a golden age for all of Albion, but only if Merlin could remain at his side. Merlin had a responsibility to stay. He couldn't let the two sorceresses drive him away.

Morgana's schemes would obviously continue to put Arthur's life at risk. Arthur would always be in the thick of any fight, at the forefront facing every magical attack. One fateful day, he might not survive. Morgana's plots were dangerous, especially so because Arthur trusted her and would keep his guard down around her. He wouldn't be aware of her assassin's dagger until it was firmly lodged in his back.

Morgana kept explaining her actions as opposition to Uther's persecution of those with magic. She repeated that during the fight in the crypt. But she had just demonstrated that she would stop at nothing, that her spurious quest for vengeance would justify any gruesome means. The way she had gloated in Merlin's face, threatening him, enjoying doing so.... 

Merlin shook his head to clear his mind. He located the medical supplies, and quickly rifled through them to ensure that they contained what was needed.

Kilgharrah had warned him long ago. He should have listened.

Merlin hefted the heavy baskets, labouring under their weight as he slowly made his way back towards the hall serving as a makeshift field hospital. His heart was heavier than his load, weighed down by worry for Arthur's safety and Camelot's fate. 

As Merlin struggled with his burden, Uther and Morgana came walking towards him along the colonnade, talking animatedly. Morgana kept nodding at Uther's words, attentive and seemingly impressed. The king looked well, the recent torment and madness forgotten. How soon would it be until Morgana would use magic and deception to wreak havoc once more?

Merlin had to step aside humbly to let the king and his ward pass. Morgana didn't deign to notice Merlin until she was right next to him. Then she briefly turned her head, met his eyes, and smirked. Uther kept talking and gesturing, oblivious. 

Rooted to the spot, Merlin looked after the two as they walked across the wet flagstones. Mere hours ago, the ancient paving had been crimson and slimy with the blood of innocents.

Morgana appeared like an angel of light and justice in her shimmering white dress and flowing hair. It was certainly true that looks could deceive.

Merlin's worry and rage welled up in him and erupted outwards. He didn't have time to think, he acted on pure violent instinct. He didn't even drop the heavy baskets. The force of his magic was enough. It rushed forward, crashing into Morgana and sweeping her feet from under her. Her piercing scream was cut off by a sickening crack as her head hit one of the flagstones.

Merlin stood frozen, merely observing as Uther fell to his knees and pulled Morgana into his arms, frantically calling for assistance. He watched as guards came running, followed by Arthur, and he saw them lift Morgana's still form and rush her towards the hospital hall. He heard servants breathlessly talking among themselves about the lady's dainty kitten heels and those slick, wet flagstones. Imagine her slipping and taking a tumble like that, what a terrible accident!

There wouldn't be anything Gaius could do. Morgana was dead. Merlin knew it, and his magic knew it. As his own shock dissipated, he felt nothing but relief.

Reality would set in soon enough. He would have to pretend deep sorrow. He'd have to watch Arthur, Gwen and Uther's immense grief. He'd have to listen to eulogies and endless lamentations. There were trying times ahead. 

But he had no regrets. 

The time for regret had been back in the days of uncertainty when he might have helped her with her magic, showed her that she wasn't alone. Once she drank his poison, it'd been too late. That had been the time to grieve. He knew that now.

_'She is the hatred to your love'_, Kilgharrah had told him yesterday, before the battle for Camelot. Merlin had long since admitted to himself that all his love was for Arthur. Everything he did, was for him. Anyone who dared threaten Arthur's life and happiness was Merlin's enemy. If Morgana's hatred had been only half as strong and focused as Merlin's love, Arthur would long have lived in extreme mortal danger.

_'She is the darkness to your light'_, Kilgharrah had also said. But Merlin sensed that he himself possessed just as much darkness as light. Moments ago, his shadow self had taken decisive charge. He had a powerful dark side, and it was neither peaceful nor forgiving.

Merlin didn't need Morgana as his foil. 

And now she never would be.  


**~ ~ The End ~ ~**


End file.
